


Worth the HR Violation

by RogueTranslator



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Climate Change, Coffee Shops, Fisher Dean Winchester, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Social Worker Castiel (Supernatural), Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29726571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueTranslator/pseuds/RogueTranslator
Summary: Gabriel’s blatant flirting with his latest client at the employment agency is embarrassing, though not surprising. Castiel has no idea how he wasn’t fired years ago.Then, the client’s brother comes in for help with starting over after the sinking of his fishing boat, and Castiel discovers he may not be so immune to workplace misconduct after all.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 87
Collections: The AO3 SPN Kink Meme





	Worth the HR Violation

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [theao3spnkinkmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/theao3spnkinkmeme) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Castiel works at Crossroads Employment, a job placement agency for helping people who are having trouble finding work or keeping their old job after the supernatural interfered with their lives.
> 
> Dean's had trouble re-entering the workforce after an unpleasant encounter with a monster. He didn't really want to do this because he doesn't want to talk about what happened, but Sam assured him he had nothing to lose by trying. His case worker, Cas, seems like a nice guy at least. 
> 
> for a split narrative: Gabriel works there too and is assigned Sam's case. 
> 
> **do want** : Teen Rating for mild monstery mentions. You can make it humorous or fluffy or hurt/comfort. Details of Dean's "monster encounter" are up to you. Please use Canon characters in the background? Light Angst + PTSD are okay. 
> 
> **do not want** : not too dark (graphic violence, gruesome stuff, body horror). no OCs please.

“Here you go, Baby Bro.” Gabriel slipped a freshly printed leaf of paper into Castiel’s pile of case files. “Merry Christmas.”

“Very funny.” Castiel pulled the sheet out and thrust it back at him. “Stop dumping your work onto me. I’m serious. Don’t you see how busy I am? My stack for the week’s twice as tall as yours.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Stop exaggerating. Besides, you pad your folders with all sorts of extraneous stuff. That’s why they’re so much thicker than mine.”

“Extraneous stuff like notes about what kind of job my cases actually want. I guess I should just forward them to whichever one of my friends needs an extra pair of hands on a given day like you do?”

“Don’t be silly, Cassie. You do too much work to have any friends.” Gabriel snatched the printout away and sighed. “Alright, alright. Don’t give me your dirty diaper face.”

“I’m far too busy for this today, Gabe.” Castiel turned back to his computer, continuing with his email to the mayor’s office. “I have Ms. Tran and her son coming in this afternoon, and I still haven’t gotten a final okay from Housing Authority to move them into the city walls.”

“Oh, that? I took care of it.”

Castiel squinted at him.

“Yeah. I’m in good with Deputy Director MacLeod, remember?”

Castiel shut his eyes, trying to preemptively banish the thought of what he’d walked in on when he’d come home to the house they shared in Mission Hills last month. He’d refused to eat at that kitchen table ever again, and Gabriel finally caved and purchased a new one a week later.

“Actually,” Castiel said through gritted teeth. “I was trying to forget that.”

“Well, anyway—it’s all taken care of. I even snagged the Trans a nice corner apartment right on Balboa Park. They’re moving in this afternoon. Don’t say I never get you anything, Cassie.”

Castiel sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Okay, what do you want?”

“Want?” Gabriel smiled angelically.

“Spit it out. Making my job easier isn’t normal behavior for you.”

Without a word, Gabriel held out the paper again.

“Of course.” Castiel yanked it away and began to skim. “You swoop into a case I’d nearly buttoned up, all so you have an excuse to drop some burnt and broken shell of a person you don’t feel like dealing with—”

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Uh, Castiel?”

Castiel looked up. A tall, dirty blond man in his late twenties wearing a threadbare flannel shirt and patched jeans was standing between his and Gabriel’s desks, working his hands together apprehensively.

“Hello,” Castiel said. “Can I help you?”

“I’m, um—I’m Dean. Dean Winchester. The—she—” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Rachel’s desk in the front. “She said to come through.”

Castiel double checked the printout and thinned his lips in consternation. Of course he’d had to show up at exactly that moment.

“My bro can help you,” Gabriel chirped. “Please, take a seat.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed, throwing Gabriel a murderous look. “Please.”

Dean settled into the chair across from Castiel, looking over his shoulder on both sides before sitting back. A lot of Castiel’s cases did that, even years after their brush with the supernatural.

“You’re Sam’s older brother, right?” Gabriel said.

“Yeah.” Dean smiled. “Yeah, Sammy’s the reason I’m here. I didn’t want to come, but he said you guys are really helping him.”

“The super tall one,” Gabriel said, to Castiel’s puzzled expression.

“Ah. Right.”

“I really like Sam,” Gabriel continued. “You know, the fact that he still wants to work with animals even after being attacked by a skinwalker? It’s incredibly brave.”

Castiel returned his eyes to Dean’s case details so that he could roll them without the other two noticing. Judging by Gabriel’s habit of ogling Sam’s rear when he got up to leave and how he used any excuse to console him with “touch therapy,” it wasn’t his bravery that he admired. Castiel had no idea how Naomi hadn’t slapped him with a human resources violation by now.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean was saying. “Sammy loves his job at the zoo. He thinks we’ll be safe now that we’re inside the city.”

“I’m sure you will be. And Cassie here will help you find a new job. Hey, who knows? He might even be able to help you in other ways.”

Castiel glared at Gabriel’s back as he sauntered to his desk. It wasn’t often, but on days like this, he almost regretted his decision to work in the city government with him instead of going into the municipal defense force with the rest of their brothers.

“Cassie? Nice to meet you.”

“Castiel,” he replied, reaching across the desk. “Sorry about him.”

“Nice handshake,” Dean commented. He scooted his chair closer. “Tight grip.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

The sunlight through the adjacent window sparkled in Dean’s eyes. They were bright green, the color of the palm trees high above the Pacific Beach boardwalk, and Castiel only realized he was staring when Dean averted them to the desk.

“Um.” Castiel swallowed. “I’m afraid I just got my hands on your case file a few minutes ago. Do you mind filling me in on why you came to see us today?”

“Oh, sure. Well, I was an independent fisherman working out of Coronado. Had my own boat— _Impala_ —that I inherited from my dad. I’ve been fishing on my own ever since he died, about five years ago now.”

Castiel nodded to indicate that he was following along.

“Uh, a few months back, my boat was attacked by a monster and capsized. I nearly went down with her. Not sure how, but I managed to swim to shore. Some surfers found me and called an ambulance. I think I was pretty close to drowning.”

“That sounds horrible.” Castiel glanced down at the printout. “The incident report here says that you were attacked by an ahuizotl. I’m quite surprised by that. We don’t really see those this far north.”

“I didn’t get a great look at it. What I did see—what I saw—” Dean stared through Castiel and clutched his knees.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it, Dean.” Castiel smiled, waiting for Dean’s eyes to refocus on him before continuing. “If it makes you feel any better, your ship was the third of its kind to be sunk by that ahuizotl, which helped the Coast Guard with establishing a pattern in its behavior. It says here that they managed to drive it out of San Diego waters, and it hasn’t been seen since.”

“Yeah, I heard that. I mean, that doesn’t bring my Baby back, but at least the same thing won’t happen to someone else.”

Castiel nodded again. “Have you already filed an insurance claim on your vessel?”

“Yeah. Sam helped with that. It went through fine.”

“What about public benefits? Did you file for social insurance with the city?”

“Um, yeah. Someone at the hospital helped me with the…STD?” Dean chuckled.

“Short-term disability, right.”

“Yeah. I had trouble breathing for a while. And then, once I was out of the hospital, I couldn’t do much more than walk around the block for a month or so. I feel pretty close to normal now, though.”

“That’s wonderful, Dean. And unemployment benefits?”

“Oh, Sammy helped me fill out that form too.” Dean rubbed the back of his head. “I felt kind of bad about taking the handout.”

“Please don’t, Dean. You’re exactly whom it’s meant for.”

Dean shrugged, and Castiel offered him a sympathetic smile. He was forming a picture of Dean now—he’d likely only ever had the one occupation, the one boat that—along with his family—formed his entire world. As the older brother in a family that had lost its patriarch far too young, he’d probably taken on the identity of provider and protector, leaving not a lot of room for much else. For people like him, coming into Crossroads Employment Agency often felt tantamount to admitting defeat.

“Sorry,” Castiel said, snapping out of his reverie once Dean shifted in his seat. “I’m all at sea.”

Dean blinked.

“I mean that I’m a little out of it today. I didn’t even offer you something to drink when you came in.”

“It’s my fault,” Gabriel called from his desk. “I made him trade cases with me at the last minute.”

Castiel rubbed his forehead. He and Gabriel would definitely be having a conversation once they got home.

“Do you want to go to the café together?” Castiel gestured over his shoulder. “My treat. You can tell me about what kind of job you’d be interested in. I assume that’s why you’re here, after all.”

Gabriel snorted. “Smooth, baby bro.”

“Sure.” Dean pushed himself up from his chair. “You know, we were so busy talking that I forgot all about that.”

“Oh. Um.” Castiel fidgeted with the printout before finally sticking it into a blank folder. “Well, after you.”

Gabriel waved. “Have fun, boys.”

They crossed to the agency’s back door. Castiel waved his badge over the lock and motioned for Dean to go first.

“Thanks, Cass.”

Castiel followed Dean into the corridor, furrowing his brow at Dean’s back. He definitely preferred Cass to Cassie, but he wondered how much of that was down to the person saying it. It was almost presumptuously informal for a first meeting, but Castiel found it endearing. He figured that it meant that Dean was already comfortable with him. A good rapport with the client was essential in his line of work.

“Oh,” Dean said. “It’s one of those fancy coffee places.”

He was staring up at the menu, looking utterly lost. Castiel joined his side.

“You can order a plain drip if you like.” Castiel pointed it out on the menu.

“I might do that. What’re you getting?”

“Me? I always get the medium flat white with oat milk. Extra foam.”

Dean grinned. “Extra foam, huh?”

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. You just seem like—” Dean looked at Castiel’s lips. “Like the kind of guy who’d order extra foam.”

Castiel tilted his head. “I don’t understand that reference.”

“You know what? It’s fine. Hey, I’ll get the same thing. Maybe I can finally see why everyone likes this frothy milk stuff so much.”

Castiel approached the bar and ordered two medium flat whites with oat milk, extra foam. Hannah and Duma, the sisters who worked the morning shift at the agency’s café, stared across the floor at Dean while Castiel swiped his card.

“What’s his story?” Hannah said.

“Traded his soul to a demon for that perfect face and body, that’d be my guess,” Duma said.

“You know I wouldn’t tell you even if you guessed correctly.” Castiel frowned. “And don’t you think it’s a little insensitive to speculate like that about people who need our help?”

Duma snorted. “You should hear what we say when you _aren’t_ around.”

When Castiel brought the mugs to their table, Dean was gazing out at the water. The San Diego County Administration Center directly fronted the seawall, offering an unobstructed panorama of the Bay, Coronado Island, the scattered remnants of the Silver Strand, and the Pacific Ocean looming behind it all. Castiel rarely bothered anymore with stopping to take it in, but the view seemed fresh—breathtaking, even—now that Dean’s silhouette sat in front of it. That was nonsense, of course.

“Here you go.” He edged the mug and saucer in front of Dean. “I hope you like it.”

“Oh, thanks.” Dean warmed his hands around the drink. “I’m not used to this air conditioning. I should’ve worn more than a flannel.”

“Yeah.” Castiel raised his mug to his lips. “I wear my trench coat to work most days. That way, I have it in case I get cold. I can lend it to you if you like. It’s hanging in the back of the office.”

Dean laughed.

“What?”

“You’ve got—” He motioned to his upper lip. “You’ve got some extra foam.”

Castiel rubbed a napkin over his face. He felt himself reddening more than he should. Maybe it was because Dean wouldn’t stop grinning.

“It’s on you, too,” Castiel said sullenly.

Dean wiped his nose and mouth, folded the napkin in two. He wiggled his finger at the corner of his lips.

“You’ve still got some,” he said. “Right here.”

Castiel dabbed the offending spot. “What do you think?”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Um, fine? You look good.”

“I meant the flat white.”

“Oh! Yeah, it’s nice. I don’t get why people go crazy over stuff like this, but it’s not bad.” Dean sipped more of it. “You know, it’s weird. Before you got here, I was looking down at the sea. I was thinking that I’ve spent most of my life on the water, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it from this high up.”

Castiel nodded. “Is it…hard? Looking at the ocean, I mean?”

“Not really.” Dean pursed his lips. “We’re pretty far away up here. Walking on the beach, the pier….”

“What’s that like?”

“It’s okay. Most of the time. But sometimes—” Dean turned to the window again. “Sometimes there’s a sudden wave that comes further up the shore than the others, and I get this cold chill. Sometimes a kid wading in the surf starts screaming—playing, you know, obviously—and I freeze. Sometimes I just start running.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Not your fault.” Dean shrugged. “Unless you’re secretly an ahuizotl. I doubt that, though. The thing that attacked me…it definitely wasn’t an, um. Handsome social worker in a nice blue suit and tie.”

He cleared his throat and hid behind his mug. Castiel blinked.

“I—” Castiel rubbed his hand over his thigh, trying to dissipate the sudden nerves he was feeling. “I assume that means you’re not looking to reenter the same field. Commercial fishing, I mean.”

“Not sure. I’ve only ever fished. It’s all I know how to do. But…I’m not sure if I can anymore. And not just because I don’t have a boat.” He set his empty cup on its saucer and swallowed. “Maybe—maybe one day.”

“I understand, Dean. And that’s completely fine.” Castiel retrieved his notebook and pen from his jacket pocket. “I’m sure we can find you something you’ll thrive in. Is there anything you have an interest in trying? We do a lot of apprenticeship placements. And if you’d rather go back to school, we can make that happen, too.”

“Awesome. Uh, well, I like to cook.”

“That’s great. We’ve got every sort of restaurant you can imagine somewhere in the city.”

“Yeah, I noticed that once Sam and I moved here. Kind of a head trip after growing up in the middle of nowhere.”

Castiel looked up from his notebook. “Where are you from originally?”

“We grew up in a fishing town on the Lawrence Sea. Pretty far inland.”

“I’ve heard of it. Didn’t it dry up a while back?”

“Yeah. I mean, it didn’t just dry up. Its water got diverted to California. When that happened, our dad packed the boat up and moved us here.”

“I’m sorry that happened. Now that you mention it, I remember that being a big controversy. I didn’t pay enough attention at the time.”

“Ah, I don’t blame you for that, either.” Dean jutted out his lower lip. “Everyone’s got to drink, right?”

Castiel peered out at the flat, endless blue of the Pacific. He shook his head.

“God has a cruel sense of humor. Too much water on one side, not enough on the other. Then again, it’s our fault more than God’s, I suppose.”

“Hey, at least you guys have a wall to keep out the monsters here. It’s way better than being on the other side. Take my word for it.”

“Yes.” Castiel reached across the table and patted Dean’s hand. “You’ll be safe here, Dean. I promise.”

Dean looked up at him with a soft smile. He rubbed his thumb over the side of Castiel’s index finger.

“Well, if you promise.”

They spent the next half-hour talking over Dean’s aptitudes and interests—in addition to cooking, he expressed an enthusiasm for working with cars; kids; and anything involving the television, film, and music of the old world. By the time he departed, there was a hope in his green eyes that hadn’t been there when he’d come in, and Castiel was reminded again of why he preferred this job to the defense force.

“You know,” Gabriel mused, as they watched Dean leave through the agency’s front door. “I can really see the family resemblance from behind.”

“You’re gross. Stop objectifying our clients.”

Castiel crashed into his chair and started updating Dean’s case file with a summary of their meeting.

“Do I detect a note of jealousy?” Gabriel walked up behind Castiel and massaged his shoulders. “Don’t worry, he’s a little short for me.”

Castiel shook off Gabriel’s hands and brought up his email. Logically, the afterschool program he’d contacted to place Dean with hadn’t had enough time to send over the hiring paperwork yet, but he found himself refreshing his browser over and over nevertheless. The sooner he could print out the forms, the sooner Dean could come back to the agency.

Gabriel chuckled knowingly as he ruffled Castiel’s hair. Castiel pretended to be irked by his brother’s antics, but couldn’t help smiling at Dean’s picture in the database smiling back at him.

* * *

Dean was beginning his new job in the second week of January, the start of the school district’s spring semester. He stopped in at Crossroads a few days past New Year’s to finalize the few remaining forms.

“How were your holidays?” Castiel said.

“Good. Just me and Sammy, like usual. We got one of those miniature Christmas trees, a couple feet tall. Not a lot of room to spare in our apartment.”

Castiel nodded along as he checked over what Dean had filled in.

“How about you?”

“Me?” Castiel glanced up. “Oh, the same as always. Gabriel and I met up with the family at our father’s house on Bankers Hill. Then we all went to brunch at the Hotel Del. Well, I say brunch, but we always stay for the entire day.”

“The Del?” Dean raised his eyebrows. “Swanky.”

“Yeah, I have a lot of siblings. We reserve the largest room every year.”

“I used to sell fish to the chefs there.” Dean gazed out the window, his eyes drawn to the sea again. “Pretty good money.”

Castiel studied Dean’s expression for a moment—the longing, the contemplation, the flickering fear. He set the paperwork to the side and reached for Dean’s hand.

“It’s okay, Dean. To grieve. To be angry at how unfair this is. And not just, you know, the ahuizotl.”

Dean looked confused, though he turned his wrist, offering his palm to Castiel.

“What do you mean, not just that?”

“Losing your home, then your father, then your ship….” Castiel shook his head. “You’ve been robbed of too much. No one should go through what you’ve been through.”

Dean’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He gave a minute shake of his head.

“You know, Dean, I wish I could do more for you. More than just finding you a job.”

“That’s already a lot, Cass. It’s way more than pretty much anyone else I’ve met has done for me.”

Castiel exhaled and sagged his shoulders. Dean rubbed his thumb over Castiel’s fingers again, the same as when they’d held hands the last time.

“In my line of work, pretty much everyone I meet deserves better than they’ve been given. I try to even up the scales a bit, but the longer I do this job, the more I realize that it’ll never be enough. Our world is cruel, and it doesn’t look like it’ll get better anytime soon.”

Dean chuckled, and Castiel made to pull away. With the keen reflexes of a lifelong fisherman, Dean closed his hand around Castiel’s, keeping him there.

“Apologies. I’m becoming maudlin.”

“No, it’s—” Dean glanced at Castiel’s lips, moistened his own. “I was going to say, the world may be cruel, but people like you make it livable.”

“People like me?”

“People who care. People who help. Any dick can shoot a gun. Helping a guy who’s got nothing get back on his feet?” Dean shrugged. “Makes me think our species might have an actual shot at not flaming out after all.”

Castiel blushed. He managed to extricate his hand this time, returning it to the sheaf of paperwork.

“I really appreciate that, Dean. And meeting people like you makes this all worthwhile.”

The sound of tittering at Castiel’s back sent a reflexive chill down his spine.

“Well, isn’t that a coincidence,” Gabriel said. He set his burger and milkshake down on his desk. “You like people like him, he likes people like you, it’s just a lovefest all around.”

“I thought you’d be out at lunch longer,” Castiel muttered.

Gabriel just simpered as he suckled at his milkshake straw, looking like the cat that got the cream.

“Sam said he saw you at the zoo the other day,” Dean said.

“Oh, yeah. I love animals.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You hate animals.”

“Well, I’m turning over a new leaf. Sam’s teaching me all sorts of things lately.”

Dean turned back to Castiel, who gave him a long-suffering smile.

“These all look good, Dean.” Castiel slid the forms into Dean’s case folder. “So, I’ll see you after your first week. Feel free to call or come in if you need anything before then.”

“Anything,” Gabriel emphasized. “We’re here for you.”

“Thanks, Cass. You’ve been amazing.”

Castiel pushed back from his desk. “I’ll walk down with you. It’s my lunch break.”

They walked to the ground floor instead of taking the elevator. Dean started in the direction of the stairwell as soon as they left the agency, and Castiel decided not to ask why.

“Where’re you going to eat?” Dean said, once they were in the lobby.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Castiel waved to the security desk, where Benjamin was currently on duty. “I usually just get something from one of the food trucks on our block and find a bench in the park.”

“Can I—” Dean hesitated at the line of glass doors. “Can I buy you lunch? Just to say thank you.”

“That’s not necessary. You really don’t have to.”

“I know. I want to, though.”

“I’m also not sure it’s entirely ethical.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, you seem like the kind of dude who does everything by the book. Well, can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Castiel furrowed his brow. “Wait. I’m sorry. Was that a flirtation?”

“It was me making an ass of myself. I’m an expert at that. Should’ve put it on my ‘list of aptitudes.’” Dean leaned into the door handle. “I’ll see you around, Cass. Thanks for everything.”

“Wait.”

Castiel lay his hand on Dean’s shoulder, squeezing just tightly enough to get him to ease off the door. Dean searched Castiel’s face. The hope in his eyes was sparking again, second by second.

“I’d love to have lunch together.” Castiel gulped down his nerves. “I think…as long as we pay separately, I won’t be violating any workplace rules.”

Dean flashed him a mischievous grin. “The thing I’ve always loved about rules? They have loopholes.”

Castiel winked back at him. He and Dean each pushed on one of the doors, letting in the warm salt air. The steps outside, sunbaked red brick scattered with grains of sand from the nearby beach, were hot under Castiel’s loafers.

“Hang on.” Dean fumbled in his pocket.

“Me too,” Castiel said, reaching into his suit jacket.

_Sam just invited me to come over for dinner tonight. Don’t wait up!_

Castiel gave a few shakes of his head in disgust at his brother’s behavior before realizing that he had zero room to criticize.

“Dammit, Sammy.” Dean thrust his phone back into his jeans. “He’s got someone coming over for dinner, says I need to stay out until late. I’m trying not to waste money at the bar anymore, too.”

“Um.” Castiel moved into Dean’s personal space so he could speak without his voice carrying beyond them. “This is completely inappropriate and would almost certainly get me fired if my superiors found out about it, but….”

“Yeah?” Dean murmured.

“Gabe’s out tonight. And…there’s a recipe for two I’ve been dying to try. I could use the help from someone who actually knows how to cook.”

“Oh really?” Dean snuck a furtive hand into Castiel’s jacket, threaded his fingers into one of Castiel’s belt loops. He pulled, gentle and tentative. “Good thing I happen to be free.”

Their chests were nearly touching now; a photograph of the moment in the wrong hands would lead to his immediate termination. But Dean smelled like coffee and freshly oiled leather and cut grass, and the sweet vulnerability radiated off him in waves.

“I have just enough self-control to not kiss you right now,” Castiel said.

“You’re a better man than me.”

“No promises about tonight, though.” Castiel half-stumbled down the steps. “We better get a move on, Dean. I have half an hour left in my lunch break.”

It was only a few days into the new year, but Castiel was pretty sure it would be wonderful. And if Naomi fired him—well, at least he had plenty of experience with job hunting.


End file.
